Chapter 96 - Those Worth Looking at and Those Who Aren’t

The slightest lapse in vigilance, and Torres would exploit a weakness with uncanny precision. Reading his opponent’s breathing and condition came as naturally to him as breathing itself. When Encrid asked how he did it, he answered: “Fight as many different kinds of people as you can. That’s the quickest way to become a special-grade soldier, and the Border Guard’s philosophy.” It hardly qualified as a philosophy, so that last part was probably half a joke. Torres gave a small grin. Encrid gazed at the rippling river and thought.

‘It’s different.’

Just as Rem’s teaching differed from Ragna’s, sparring with Torres and listening to his advice offered something different. So did the Fairy Company Commander. ‘So much variety.’

He could learn from all of them. There was nothing he could afford to miss. Torres’s hidden knife was, in a sense, a simple sleight of hand. But Encrid had learned that, depending on its use, it could become a deadly move. He had even learned a little of how to deceive an opponent’s perceptions to make it work. This was Torres’s way of fighting in real combat. “All thanks to the man who called himself my father being a gambler and wanting me to carry on the family trade.” The origins of the hidden knife technique, one might say. To Encrid, it sounded like the product of exceptional talent and tireless effort. “Want me to teach you?”

This had been shortly before the ferryman arrived.

“Didn’t you say it was a secret technique?”

“I’ll teach you if you want.” Why was he doing this? Encrid didn’t know. But he was more accustomed to seizing an opportunity than looking for the reason behind someone’s change of heart. He nodded. “Good. Watch closely. Hide it inside your sleeve like this.”

Torres went on to explain how to conceal the knife, draw it simply by turning his hand over, and so on. “You really have no knack for this.”

Encrid’s fingers were clumsy enough to make Torres complain. Still, he knew how to use Concentrate on a Single Point when learning something, so he was better than before. Several times better, in fact. Had this been the old Encrid, before he learned Concentrate on a Single Point...

‘Would he have given up long ago?’

Would Torres already have been shaking his head? Investing time in something that showed no promise would be foolish, after all. “Have a smith make you a proper knife for it later. Until then, practice with something like a thin stone.”

Torres even picked up a thin stone for him. “You really are clumsy.”

Another jab. Encrid didn’t give it a second thought. He already knew that. He had never had the luxury of worrying about remarks like those anyway. “Persistent, though.”

Letting Torres’s words wash over him, Encrid tried a few times. Naturally, it didn’t come easily. He focused harder on concealing the thin, flat stone. He let his sleeve hang over his hand and slipped the stone inside. The key was to start with the back of his hand facing the sky, then flick as he turned it toward the ground. Naturally, it wasn’t easy. “A practice sheath would help.”

Torres was muttering to himself. Apparently, there was a special sheath used in practice to secure a dagger inside the sleeve. He said it was useful until one got the hang of it. “It’s an adaptation of a trick gamblers call palming,” Torres said as he watched Encrid practice.

“Palming.” It was a technique that came with several requirements. The blade had to be shorter than an outstretched palm, and concealing it required precise timing. Even learning how to hold it would take practice. ‘This is hard.’

Several times harder than swinging a sword. Still, it was better than getting used to a shield. They spent some time at it, then sparred again. The ferryman arrived while they were resting, drenched in sweat. He came along the road, which was patrolled by soldiers who regularly cleared out the monsters. That allowed him to travel alone. “They say they’ll build a hut here once the year’s out. Then a ferryman or fisherman will settle here. Would be nice if it grew into a little fishing village.” The ferryman was talkative. Encrid humored him with occasional replies, gazing at the river as the oars creaked. The Penn-Hanil River. It was the lifeblood not only of the local villages, but of the neighboring countries, including Naurilia. Far away, low grass and a few trees lined the banks. Looking off to one side, he could see rocky cliffs, a waterfall tumbling between them, and a few huts built along the river. The shore here was gravel, but farther beyond lay meadows that would turn green when spring came. “Heave-ho. The current’s slow and the water’s shallow here, but things like that are dangerous.”

Speaking almost to himself, the ferryman steered the boat aside. A dark gray rock jutted out of the water ahead. A little ferry like this would surely break apart if it struck that. The boat drifted leisurely along the water and soon reached the opposite bank.

“I’ll be off, then.”

The ferryman left. “Shall we wash before we go? We have some time before the meeting.”

Torres made the suggestion while looking at the sun overhead.

“Good idea.” Their sweat had cooled, and an unpleasant smell was rising from them. Encrid didn’t know how many days the operation would last, but there was no need to start it uncomfortable. Eating, sleeping, and washing whenever the chance arose were basic soldiering habits. “All right, then.”

Torres quickly stripped and waded into the river first. The rippling water was somewhere between blue and green, and looked wonderfully clear and clean. Encrid soon removed his equipment piece by piece and entered the river naked. As he dipped his feet in, the cold sent goose bumps over his entire body. Torres’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

“Y-you... what the...”

Was there anything here to be surprised about? Torres opened his mouth, then lowered his gaze between Encrid’s legs. He stopped speaking and clamped his mouth shut. Encrid looked down between his own legs, too. Well, there was one thing worth being surprised about. “You bastard. You’ve got everything.”

Torres sounded close to tears.

“You should’ve stopped at the face.” “Keep that up and I’ll want to thank my parents, even though I don’t know their names.”

“You’re an orphan?”

“Yeah.” Not knowing one’s parents was nothing unusual here. It was probably true of most of those serving in the army. “Might be better than having a parent who teaches you by beating your palms.”

“Maybe.” Encrid had never yearned for parental affection in the first place. He would rather spend that time swinging a sword. Back when he had nothing, absolutely nothing, only his dream of becoming a knight and the object called a sword had sustained him. Was the world gentle to a little orphan boy? Hardly. It wasn’t that kind of world. It was a wonder he hadn’t fucking died. He was only alive because the people in the village where he stayed were simple and kind. ‘A knight.’

He had lived with his eyes fixed on that alone. Instead of yearning for affection, he dreamed of knighthood. He dreamed to forget his hunger, and swung a club as a sword to forget his misery. So Encrid did not yearn for affection. He yearned for the sword instead. That was what gave rise to his dream. The knight who would end the war—the beginning of Encrid’s dream. A few faces from the village he might call home came back to him. They hadn’t cherished him like parents, but at least they hadn’t left him to die. Yet this was a world where even people like them were swept up in war. ‘War devours everything.’

So it would be good to end that war. What must he do to play his part?

‘My sword.’

He need only swing it, over and over. That was the only way Encrid knew. It was his parent, his brother, his sister. His dream, his goal, his everything. Bubbles burbled up to the surface. As Encrid lay submerged, lost in thought, Torres tapped his shoulder underwater. “Pah!”

He surfaced, letting out a breath.

“They’re here.”

Torres glanced to one side as he spoke. Following his gaze, Encrid looked back. A soldier stood with their weight on one leg, with two more behind them holding cudgels shorter than shortswords. At a glance, their equipment could have marked them as brigands or mountain bandits: blunt weapons called clubs and worn leather armor. They were lightly equipped. Dispensing with thick padded gambesons probably meant they prioritized mobility. Encrid naturally began gauging their fighting ability, something he had learned through Audin and the Isolation Technique. ‘Good balance in both arms.’

Despite resting their weight on one leg, the soldier in front kept both hands hanging straight down. When would someone take that stance?

‘Ready to throw something if things go wrong.’ Their skill with throwing weapons seemed likely to be fairly good. A throwing hatchet dangled at their waist, as if to prove it. Judging by their conditioning, they probably had other skills as well. The two soldiers behind wore daggers rather than hatchets at their waists. Aside from the clubs in their hands, nothing particularly stood out about them. ‘Orange hair.’

Encrid’s gaze finally reached the face of the soldier in front. Freckles, orange hair, a small frame. A female soldier. “Taking it easy, are we? Even enjoying a bath. Nice and refreshing?”

The orange-haired woman greeted them in a swaggering tone. At the sight of her, Encrid realized anew that his Sixth Sense still needed work.

‘I didn’t feel them coming.’

Perhaps that was only natural. He hadn’t expected anyone to come here, and he had been lost in thought underwater. Had he let his guard down too far? No. He had still taken the bare minimum of precautions. He was right by the bank, with his equipment within reach. Those who had approached were probably skilled at concealing their presence, too. Standing on somewhat higher ground, the orange-haired woman spoke.

“Aren’t you coming out?” Torres went first.

“Going to keep watching?”

To that, she replied:

“I would if there were anything worth looking at.” Harsh. With that thought, Encrid stepped out, water cascading down his body. In truth, had his manhood been the only thing to surprise Torres? No. The Isolation Technique had completely reshaped Encrid’s body. Audin’s teachings, etched into him through repeated todays, showed clearly in his physique—the accumulated results of all that time. Supple arm muscles rippled below sharply defined shoulders. Beneath his firm chest, angular abdominal muscles shifted, and the muscles at the fronts of his thighs flexed into definition before the soldier’s eyes. Finally, the appendage dangling between them filled her vision. “... Seems he’s got something worth looking at.”

Watching the scene intently from beside him, Torres couldn’t help complaining. “Ahem. Just get dressed.”

The orange-haired soldier cleared her throat. Torres and Encrid left their sweat-soaked clothes aside and took fresh ones from their packs. The old clothes were drying with visible salt stains. It would be good to wash them if he had the time. With that thought, Encrid stood up, fully equipped once more. “Pin. Scout Platoon Commander.”

The orange-haired woman held out a fist. Torres stepped forward first.

“Torres. Border Guard Platoon Commander.” Their fists met lightly, and hers moved toward Encrid.

“Encrid, Platoon Commander of the Independent Platoon.” The Fairy Company Commander had made an odd change to Encrid’s affiliation. Unable to entrust him with an actual platoon, she had removed him from the regular structure altogether, organizing his unit as an Independent Platoon under the Company. “Independent Platoon? What’s that? Anyway, good to meet you.”

Pin passed over Encrid’s fist and gave his stomach a light tap.

“Nice abs.” “Mine ought to have looked pretty good, too.”

Torres muttered beside him. He spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear, so it didn’t seem he was talking to himself. “Shall we talk on the way? Leave now and we can reach camp before sundown.” The two soldiers behind appeared to be Pin’s subordinates. Each gave a military salute. Now five strong, the party set off. Only once they were on their way did Pin explain the mission’s detailed objective.

“You didn’t come here without knowing where you were going, did you?”

“I heard it’s the Land of the Monsters and Beasts,” Encrid replied. He had been drawing on his excellent memory to recall and review Henri’s words one by one. Henri had said that many monsters and demonic beasts made their lairs north of the Penn-Hanil River. It was land people shunned unless they were pathfinders or hunters with considerable skill at finding their way. “And right on Cross Guard’s doorstep.”

Pin continued in a stiff tone.

“The original objective was to receive information from our Kitten. Well, that was all, until now.” Kitten was slang for a spy, a common term on this continent. Both countries had planted spies in each other’s cities. That went for Aspen as well as Naurilia. Encrid had even fought and killed some of those spies himself, so their existence was nothing unusual. “And it’s already been four days since the arranged date, with no word from our Kitten.”

Pin spoke as they walked. What happened now? As Torres and Encrid listened closely, she continued. “New orders came down: go in ourselves and bring them out. Our Kitten’s last message said they’d obtained important information.” A tingling sensation made Encrid shudder. Goose bumps rose as a warning of danger lashed through his body. This was...

‘Dangerous.’ More than dangerous. He would die. He would certainly die at least a few times. The intuition born of countless todays told him so. Because if he followed what this woman, Pin, was saying, he would have to infiltrate Cross Guard. “Whew. Shit of a mission, right? Fuck, I know. But there’s a way. There is.”

Only then did Pin give a small laugh. It was self-mocking. Encrid had already learned the answer when he fell into the mage’s traps. Could he escape today by running away? The answer was no. Whether he tried to stay awake, simply went to sleep, or fled somewhere else all night, the result was the same. All he gained was more physical exhaustion. He had learned that he couldn’t avoid it. And if he couldn’t avoid it, all he could do was enjoy it. Encrid smiled, too. His smile was different from Pin’s: a smile of joy and exhilaration, bright with anticipation. Pin’s eyebrow twitched at the sight.

“They sent us a crazy bastard from the main force?” Torres nodded, at least half in earnest. Encrid didn’t look normal to him either. Even he was tense, and yet this man... Of course, Encrid was tense as well. More than anything, though, his attitude toward reaching a new tomorrow was different.

‘I’ll get past it.’ Getting over a wall meant growth, and that joy made him smile. Of course he would fight desperately. He would struggle with everything he had to avoid being trapped in today. That didn’t mean the prospect wasn’t chilling. He was simply looking farther ahead. Encrid’s shoulders tightened as he walked, taut with a mixture of tension and anticipation.